


What to Expect When Your Dead Brother's Girlfriend is Expecting

by fleurlb



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Childbirth, Friendship, Gen, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-16 14:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurlb/pseuds/fleurlb
Summary: Now that Jason's dead, someone needs to support Polly during her pregnancy, labor, and childbirth.





	What to Expect When Your Dead Brother's Girlfriend is Expecting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesleepingsatellite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepingsatellite/gifts).



**_Excited grandparents-to-be might require some tricky boundary setting._**  
Although Polly had been at the Blossom mansion for several weeks now, Penelope Blossom had little to do with her. So when Cheryl heard her mother cheerily announce that she had a surprise waiting for the girl, her spidey-senses definitely started to tingle. Cheryl followed them to the little-used stable annex and hovered just out of sight of the doorway.

“So, dear, here is where I had Cheryl and Jason. It would mean the world to us if you could honor the Blossom Family tradition and have your babies here.”

Polly's little gasp and subsequent cough made Cheryl think that a state-of-the-art homebirth pool was _not_ in the room. She risked discovery by creeping forward to get a better look. 

The room was dim, with a wooden floor and no windows. Every piece of furniture looked like something that could be found in a medieval torture chamber. And that went double for the hunched old woman in a retro nursing uniform.

“Hilde Broothvard delivered the last few generations of Blossoms. I've hired her to be your midwife,” said Penelope. 

“Mrs. Blossom, I don't...I mean....I can't....” Polly began but her words trailed off under Penelope's withering gaze.

Cheryl rolled her eyes. _Poor little lamb has no idea what she's up against._ She considered leaving, but instead cleared her throat and walked in.

“Mother, what kind of joke is this?”

“Cheryl, I don't believe this involves you.” Penelope's hands went to her hips, but she didn't bother to look at Cheryl. 

“It involves my godchildren and their mother, so it certainly does involve me. The mother of Jason's children is not giving birth in a room that looks like a set from the Saw movies.”

“It's not your decision to make.”

“You're right, it's not. And it's not yours either. Polly, would you prefer to give birth in an actual hospital with real doctors and authentic pain medicine?”

Polly's look was pure trapped and frightened rabbit. Cheryl stepped forward and put herself between them. She forced the girl to look at her and tried, for once in her life, to look nurturing and normal. 

“Polly?” she asked again, keeping her tone level. 

“I....I want to have my babies in a hospital. I'm sorry Mrs. Blossom, I appreciate the....trouble....you've gone to.” Polly looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. And Cheryl had no doubt that the creepy midwife could definitely make that happen. 

“Broomhilde, your services won't be needed,” said Cheryl as she put her arm around Polly and guided her back to the main living quarters. She was going to have to keep a closer eye on her mother. 

 

 ** _Opinions are like names, everyone has one, especially about your beloved baby names._**  
Cheryl still wasn't used to finding Polly hanging out in Jason's room. Even though it made sense for her to seek comfort there, it still surprised Cheryl every time. Jason's room had been his sanctuary, and Cheryl had barely been allowed into it when her brother was alive. 

Cheryl paused in the doorway before entering, taking in the image of Polly stretched on Jason's bed, curled up on her side, a book of baby names in her hands.

“You know that they have an app for that nowadays, right?” asked Cheryl when she walked in. 

Polly's eyes glistened, and she offered the book to Cheryl. “I know....it's just....Jason and I read this book together. He took notes. Circled names. Crossed others out. It seems like the only way to get his opinion.”

Cheryl felt her chest tighten, and she fought the urge to run from the room. It was still so hard to be confronted with her brother's loss. She eased herself gently onto the bed and opened the book to a random section: Boys Names, M. 

“Let's see. Yes to Macallan, Maceo, and Madison... He actually liked Madison? Didn't he know that's totally a girl name now?” 

Polly laughed, “I think he circled that one just to make me argue with him.”

“That sounds like Jason. He loved a good debate.” Cheryl looked up at Polly, and the weight of their loss hung over the room like a cloud. 

“I still can't believe he's gone. I keep thinking this is a nightmare and I'll wake up,” said Polly as she struggled to sit up.

Cheryl nodded, but could feel her throat tightening. She didn't want to go there with Polly. So instead, she flipped the book open to another random section. Girls Names, G. 

“Wow. The G names for girls are a bunch of spinsters. Gay.... Gernaium.... Gertrude.... Godiva.... Griselda. Hope you weren't hoping for a GB monogram.”

“Jason was hoping we could make the initials spell something naughty, but we'd have to give the kid about four middle names for that. Honestly, it's hard enough to come up with a first name and a middle name.”

“Sebastian Lionel Oliver Blossom....and Bethany Oleander Madison Blossom. I don't see what your problem is,” said Cheryl, but there was no heat in it. She snapped the book shut and handed it back to Polly.

“Slob and bomb. Nice. I think Jason was looking for something more like Franklin Ulysses Cranston Kendall Blossom.”

Cheryl laughed. “I bet he was. Anything to cause Mother to have a mini-stroke. I imagine she's weighed in with her preferences.”

“She gave me an annotated list of Blossom family names. I checked them in the baby book and Jason had put Xs next to every last one of them.” 

“Good for him. It will make her crazy that he's still able to frustrate her. I love it.”

Cheryl stood up and started to leave, but paused when Polly cleared her throat. 

“I was hoping you might tell me what you think about my choices.” Polly shifted uncomfortably, a blush rising on her cheeks. 

“You don't want to hear what I think. You name those babies what you and Jason would have wanted.” 

“We talked a lot about classic names. About virtue names especially.” Polly looked away. 

“Puritan virtue names?” said Cheryl, biting back the instinct to say something snide. “Just stay away from Earnest and Amity and the kids should be fine. Classic names are in.”

“Amity means friendship. And I kind of like it.”

“Amity means horror house,” said Cheryl as she started to leave the room. She was suddenly desperate for escape. 

“That was Amity _ville_ ,” insisted Polly.

Cheryl paused for a minute at the door, then shrugged. “Maybe you're right. I wouldn't risk it though.”

 

 ** _Birth plans can be stressful, but the planning will benefit you, your partner, and baby on the big day._**  
Riverdale General Hospital was a modern facility with a state-of-the-art labor and delivery wing and some of the best obstetricians in the world. Polly's doctor was a kindly woman who took extra time explaining everything. She also insisted that Polly take a birth class, and Polly asked Cheryl to be her partner for the class. 

And because Polly never asked her for anything, Cheryl agreed, even though it meant that she learned way more about the nitty gritty of the miracle of birth than she'd ever wanted to. Seriously, you cannot un-see somethings, and that terrifying birth video was one of those things. Cheryl had been immensely relieved when the last class was over, but she was surprised by the responsibility she felt to making sure that Polly was ready for birth.

“How's that birth plan coming, Pols?” she asked when she saw the familiar blue folder that had been distributed in the class.

“It's worse than my sophomore year English literature paper,” groaned Polly. 

Cheryl plucked the folder out of Polly's hands and flipped through the pages inside. “Looks like it's all multiple choice and fill-in-the-blank. How hard could it really be? 'I would like the following individuals to be present during the labor process. I would like the following individuals to be present during the birth process.”

“It's not that simple. Most of the people who want to be there would sooner spit on each other. And the one person I want to be there, can't.” Polly struggled out of Jason's bed and waddled over to the window. 

“Let me help you. Betty and I can be in the same room without spitting on each other. We can be there. I can write the names for you.” Cheryl sat down at Jason's desk and started to write.

“Thank you.” Polly left the window and sat back down on the bed, knotting her fingers together nervously.

Cheryl breezed through the questions on music, mood, and laboring positions. Then she moved to the page labeled “Drugs”. 

“What is your birth plan for drugs?” said Cheryl. “Looks like this one is an essay question.”

“Isn't it better for the babies if I don't have drugs?” 

“They wouldn't offer them to you if it wasn't safe for the babies. Honestly, I don't understand the whole fad of natural labor. It's not like you get a gold medal if you birth a baby without an epidural. It's not cheating if you rely on the miracle of medical science during the miracle of birth.”

“Just put down that I'm trying for as natural a labor as possible, for the good and health of my babies.”

“What about the good and health of you?” asked Cheryl after she'd written down the anodyne answer. When she heard only silence in response, she spun the chair around and was surprised to find tears streaming down Polly's face. 

“What's wrong?” asked Cheryl as she went and sat down next to the crying girl and awkwardly patted her on the back. This whole comforting thing was _so_ not in her wheelhouse. 

Polly turned and threw her arms around Cheryl, crying all down the front of her blouse. Cheryl used every ounce of restraint she possessed to stop herself from telling Polly she was ruining silk. Instead, she pulled the girl into a hug and felt the press of her belly. She could feel the twins squirming and kicking. It was like getting a communication from aliens – a surprising message of life. 

“Part of me is so afraid I'm going to die during childbirth. The other part of me wishes it would happen so that I could see Jason again.” Polly's words were muffled by tears and gasps. 

Cheryl pulled back and forced Polly to look her in the eye. “Part of me wants to comfort you, the other part of me wants to slap you for being stupid. Or selfish. Or both.” 

Polly sniffled and tried to pull away, but Cheryl hung onto her. 

“You are **not** going to die in childbirth. It's 2017, not 1817. And these babies, they need you. So you are just not allowed to die in childbirth. Capisce?” 

Polly nodded and looked down. “Oh my god. I've ruined your blouse.”

“This old thing?” said Cheryl. “If it makes you feel better, I can send you the dry-cleaning bill.”

Polly giggled, and Cheryl breathed a sigh of relief that the bonding moment was over. And was successful.

 ** _Baby arrives when baby is ready, but there's no harm in safely trying to shuffle her along._**  
When Polly was 36 weeks pregnant, she started to worry about being induced, which the doctor said she would want to do if Polly went much past 37 weeks. So Cheryl hit the internet and then hit the mall. She returned to Jason's room, where Polly had been practically living (much to Mother's chagrin), with several shopping bags. 

“How you feeling?” asked Cheryl as she swept into the room.

“Like the Staypufft Marshmallow man,” replied Polly, struggling to sit up. 

“Well, I am the bringer of bring-on-the-labor presents,” said Cheryl, dropped the bags on the bed.

Polly began to empty the contents of the first bag. “Pineapple. Balsamic vinegar. Dates. Extra hot curry sauce. Am I supposed to eat these?”

“Well, not all together, but yes, all of these are supposed to help kick off labor.”

Polly pulled a pair of Easy Spirit walking shoes out of another bag. “I hope I'm not supposed to eat these!” 

“No, you need to wear them and walk yourself ragged. Going up and down stairs is supposed to be good too. There's an exercise ball in there too, it'll just need to be inflated.” 

“Wow, Cheryl, you've thought of everything,” said Polly in a dubious tone as she pulled out a vibrator, and then collapsed in a fit of giggles and blushing. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Sure is. Orgasms are supposed to help open up the cervix and get contractions moving. I've read that sperm help too, but I can't help you there. I do know a guy. Very discrete and sweet, who might be convinced to help.”

“Cheryl!” gasped Polly, her face beet-red.

“Forget I mentioned it,” said Cheryl crisply, waving the words away. “Here, let me make you a nice salad and we'll see if we can't get these babies to arrive before Induction Day.” 

 

 ** _The job of the birth partner is to be an advocate, even a warrior, for the mother's wishes and best interests._**  
Polly went into labor a day after eating more pineapple than Cheryl thought was really advisable. She'd also walked up and down enough steps in Thornhill to qualify for the Guinness Book of World Records. She looked exhausted, and labor had only barely begun, according to the chirpy nurse, who Cheryl already wanted to punch.

Cheryl texted Betty, who was in New York City on a rare trip out with Veronica, but they were cutting their trip short. So it was just Cheryl and an increasingly uncomfortable and distressed Polly in a room that was a cross between a three-star hotel and an operating room. Polly's favorite music was playing and the lights were low. Nurse Chirpy sat in a corner, catching up on paperwork. 

“I think I want something,” gasped Polly after a particular devastating contraction.

“Name it. I'll get it for you,” said Cheryl, eager to finally be useful. 

“Pain-relief. Not an epidural. But maybe a shot of something to take the edge off.”

Cheryl gestured for Nurse Chirpy to come over. “What can I do you for?”

“I want a shot of Demerol,” said Polly, grimacing as another contraction came over her. 

The nurse picked up the blue folder with the birth plan and flipped through it. “Are you sure?”

Polly nodded and struggled to breathe through the contraction.

“But dear, what about your birth plan?” sing-songed the nurse in a tone more suitable for talking to a toddler. “Your birth plan says that you'd prefer a drug-free labor.”

“She said she wants drugs! Bring her drugs!” barked Cheryl, leveling a look that could pierce armor.

Nurse Chirpy opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. 

“Don't just stand there, looking like a goldfish. Get this woman a shot of Demerol. Now!”

Polly mouthed the words “Thank you” and Cheryl smiled at her.

After the Demerol, Polly was much more relaxed, and her labor progressed quicker than Nurse Chirpy expected. After a couple of hours, Polly had about ten minutes of very difficult struggling, then she announced that she wanted to push.

“But dear, you've only been in labor for a few hours. There's no way you're ready to push,” said the nurse.

“Pollykins, are you okay if we leave the room real quick?” asked Cheryl, even though she was already dragging Nurse Chirpy out the door.

“Three of my relatives are on the board of this hospital, so if you want to keep your job, you need to shut up and listen to your patient. Are we clear?” hissed Cheryl the second the door closed.

“She's a first time mother. Her labor is going to be longer than a few hours.”

“She is a Blossom. She doesn't do things the way everyone else does. And she deserves your respect and attention. Can you give her that much?”

“Internal exams introduce bacteria to the birth canal. It's not good-”

Cheryl stalked away, leaving Nurse Chirpy to flap her gums. 

“Excuse me,” she said when she reached the nursing station. “My sister is in room 17 and she's ready to push. I think I saw one of the babies crowning. Can you page Doctor Paulson?” 

The nurse at the station picked up the phone and Cheryl smiled before stalking back to the room. Within five minutes, Doctor Paulson arrived. Cheryl stayed away from the business end of the miracle of birth, preferring to mop Polly's brow and repeat statements of encouragement. 

Betty arrived just in time to witness the birth of Justice Jason Blossom and Verity Cheryl Blossom. Her niece's middle name made Cheryl's chest tighten.

“Are you alright?” asked Betty as she snapped a picture of an exhausted Polly with two red squalling babies on her chest.

“I'm fine,” said Cheryl. “For a medical establishment, this place certainly is quite dusty.”

She blinked hard to force the tears back and tried not think about how proud her brother would be.

/the end/


End file.
